


A Game of Two Halves

by partypaprika



Category: Bend It Like Beckham (2002)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:43:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17147948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partypaprika/pseuds/partypaprika
Summary: Jess and Jules may be professional football players, but they're still working some things out...





	A Game of Two Halves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moebius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moebius/gifts).



> I played a bit fast and loose with the England national women's football team timeline and players. Please excuse all errors!

It’s the semi-finals of the 2014 NWSL championships and Jess feels washed out when the refs blow the final whistle after the stoppage time. It’s never easy to end a season, but it always seems to hurt all the more when it comes just as Jess is so near to winning it all. This year, the Washington Spirit had come so close, making it to the playoffs, only to lose one game away from the championships.

On the field, Jess forces herself to keep her anger contained. It’s hard—Jess wants to scream or kick something. And all around them are the loud cheers of the stadium yelling for their home team, the Reign, as they’ve clinched their entry to the NWSL championship. The noise won’t stop ringing in Jess’s ears.

Jess’s Washington Spirit all look just as exhausted as Jess feels, everyone tight with tension as they make their way off the field and no one says much of anything. Coach Parsons joins them in the locker room and says a few tried and true platitudes before everyone hits the showers.

Only after Jess has let the hot water numb the worst of the pain does she finally get dressed and check her phone.

There’s a series of texts from her mother and father that she would normally find heart-warming—her mother berating the Reign for dirty play and the officials for being blind; her father saying how proud he was of Jess’s play—she skips over them in favour of the lone text from Jules.

 _I’m all done in Chicago, flying out to DC tomorrow_ , the message says.

Jess sighs and rubs her forehead.

 

 

The next morning, Jess drives out to Dulles to pick up Jules. She grumbles to herself almost the entire way there, her bad mood only marginally eased by getting eight hours of sleep in. The flight home from Washington State the previous night had been tense, with not just Jess angry at their performance, with no way to work it off. And yet, as soon as she pulls up to arrivals to see Jules leaning against a pillar, the worst of it fades into the background. When Jess rolls down the window and shouts Jules’s name, Jules starts and then grabs her small carry-on bag laying on the ground before jumping into Jess’s car.

“Jess!” Jules says, immediately throwing herself over the centre console to hug Jess. “You would not believe the flight that I had.” She starts going off about her flight, and even though Jules’s season also ended a little over a week ago, she’s already smiling, her hair lightly tousled, and Jess can’t help but smile back.  

 

 

 

Sometimes, it feels like a miracle that they’ve both ended up here. Once, college football had felt like an impossible goal. But now, they’re both playing professional football—getting paid to play football—or soccer—it doesn’t really matter to Jess as long as she gets to play it.

It would be even better if she got to play it with Jules. Although, Jess can’t really complain. They do play together some of the time—for the national team. And even though they’ve both been on the roster for the Lionesses since they graduated from university, there’s still a thrill that runs through Jess when she thinks about it. It’s a World Cup year—so she’ll have at most a few months off before training will start.

(Her mum’s first reaction had been surprise—“Are there people that will be watching you, Jesminder? Is this really what you want to be doing? What about coming home and finding a husband?” Her dad’s had been quiet pride and excitement—he’d gone and bought a dozen Bhamra kits as soon as they’d been available for purchase, including three for Jess’s nieces.)

When Jess brings up that they’ll have almost eight months of playing together, Jules turns her bright smile onto Jess. “And maybe this time, we’ll be able to properly enjoy it instead of being petrified that they’re going to give us the sack.”

 

 

Jules lets Jess get away with being quiet and moody until mid-afternoon when they’ve both woken up from inadvertent naps.

“That’s it. We’re going out for dinner and dancing,” Jules announces. Jess pulls a face that indicates exactly what she thinks of that idea. Jules just shakes her head and smiles. “You need to get drunk. I need to get drunk. We’re going out.”

Jess lets herself be pushed into dressing up and then suddenly, they’re at bar, three drinks already down the hatch as they curl up in a booth laughing hilariously at a horrible first date that they can’t help but overhear.

“That’s good,” Jules says, when they finally catch their breath.

“Mm?” Jess says, not sure that she’s following.

“You’re smiling again. It’s good that I came out here.”

“Hey!” Jess says. “It’s perfectly fine to mourn the end of the season. To accept my responsibility in our loss.”

Jules rolls her eyes. “I saw the bloody thing. You can’t win a game by yourself any more than I could. It’s a team sport for a reason. You played well.”

“But I didn’t play like a champion,” Jess says. “I can’t win a game by myself, but I can score. I can inspire my team to do better.”

“I feel like I’m hearing Joe speak with your voice,” Jules says and isn’t that a trip back.

“Probably because he had to say it to you a lot more,” Jess says, smiling.

“Oh, I wonder why,” Jules says suggestively and both of them crack up all over again.

“Seriously though,” Jess says. “It’s just hard to let it go.” Just one more goal would have been enough to tie it. One goal. That does feel like Jess’s responsibility. She was brought in to score and she failed. But it’s over with. Done. So, she puts on a smile for Jules.

“Oh, Christ,” Jules says. “I need another drink before I can deal with you.”

 

They end up at a loud and crowded club that Jules has found on yelp. It’s alright, the music danceable and the cocktails actually good. Jess is having a, dare she say it, good time and goes to grab some waters so they don’t die of alcohol poisoning in the night. While she’s gone, Jules disappears. It takes Jess ten minutes of searching before she finds Jules in one of the dark corners, a woman pressed up against Jules and kissing like her life depends on it.

There’s something tight and familiar in Jess’s chest, but she lets it wash through her as always. Jess stands there for a few minutes, as her chest if not—eases—at least becomes more breathable. Finally, Jules looks up and then slowly begins to untangle herself.

“Jess!” Jules says happily—she’s got one hand pressed against the woman’s back and Jess watches as Jules leans in and whispers something to the woman. The woman bites her lip and blushes.

Jess has more discretion than Jules, so she does not (1) roll her eyes, (2) tell this woman that Jules is unlikely to remember her name past this evening or (3) kick up a fuss about how this was supposed to be a night to cheer up Jess.

Once Jules has taken a few steps towards Jess for a pretend sense of privacy, Jess says, “Just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I’m going to head out.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll come with,” Jules says.

Jess looks at Jules dubiously. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, absolutely. This is a night for you,” Jules says. She then gives her new friend a lascivious wink. “Also, I already got her mobile.”

“You are a danger to society,” Jess says and tries not to feel relieved.

 

 

In the uber, Jess says, “So I guess that you and Alicia are still on the outs?”

Jules had been dating Alicia Heath, a singer, on and off for a few years. Their last break up had been mid-season and it had seemed to fuel a nice multi-point streak for Jules in Chicago. Some part of Jess, the nice and good part, had hoped that Jules and Alicia would finally work it out. The two of them were good together—everyone said so. And Jules’s mum had been so bowled over by Jules dating a. real. live. celebrity. that she’d clean forgotten all of her objections to Jules’s stated sapphic inclinations.

The less good part of Jess keenly wished that Jules and Alicia would finally call it quits. Why? That was a great question. She’d asked herself that hundreds of times. Her well-practised answer was that she was jealous, plain and simple, of her friend getting to be in the spotlight.

It wasn’t like Jess hurt for men to date, but they weren’t beating down her door to get to her. And Jess’s boyfriends certainly weren’t regularly featured on the cover of magazines. Back when she’d first made the national team, there’d been some photo of her and Joe from years ago featured on the cover of the Daily Mail. There’d been a lot of lurid words and thinly veiled racism about favouritism that had riled up Jess’s dad.

“Yeah. It just wasn’t working out,” Jules says, snapping Jess back into the car.

“That’s too bad,” Jess says, even as something flutters in her stomach before settling.

Jules shrugs her shoulder. “It’s not. We had a good time, but it was never all that serious.” Jules turns and gives Jess a large smile and then winks aggressively. “’Sides, you know that my heart belongs to you.” Jess can’t help but laugh at that.

“I would have been offended if you’d given it to someone who doesn’t even know the handball rule,” Jess says as seriously as she can manage.

“She did know it!” Jules says. “Well, sort of. She roughly understood it. It is a very confusing rule.”

“Come here,” Jess says, and holds her arm out. Jules immediately moves in and Jess curls her arm around Jules and pulls her in close. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“Well, actually, we went out in the first place because you’re miserable,” Jules points out.

“Oi, shut it,” Jess says. “That is a different type of sad and I am allowed to be it.”

“Nope, no sadness, I forbid it,” Jules said.

“Oh, well in that case…” Jess says, but they’re both smiling when they’re dropped off at Jess’s place.

 

 

The next morning, Jess goes in to clean out her locker and do her exit interview. It’s painful, but the all-encompassing depression has lifted and Jess is able to joke with the physio that Jess talks into stretching out her legs. She sees a couple of the girls also cleaning out their lockers while she’s there and even though everyone is subdued, there are still smiles and plans to be made. The world does go on.

 

“Oh good,” Jules says when Jess gets home and goes to investigate her guest room. Jules is lying in bed still, her face mashed into the pillow. “You look less like someone who has to kill a small puppy to avenge your honour.”

“My honour is perfectly wonderful, thank you very much. Are you planning on getting out of bed today?” Jess asks.

“I don’t know,” Jules says petulantly, but she does start moving and she follows Jess to the kitchen where Jess makes them (delicious) smashed avocado toast for lunch.

They spend the next couple days shopping and eating their way through DC, which is about forty minutes away from where Jess lives in Maryland. It’s August and miserable, so they try to spend as little time as possible outside although neither of them manages to go that long before going for a run. That just means that Jess gets the delight of waking of Jules each morning in order to get their runs in before the humidity makes Jess want to kill herself.

After their runs, Jules makes breakfast while they figure out their plans for the days. It’s wonderful and secretly, Jess hopes that Jules decides that she’s never going to leave.

But of course, eventually, Jules announces that she’s going to head back to Chicago.

“Don’t give me that look, Bhamra!” she says when she starts looking for flights back. “I have to go back and pack-up for the season.”

“Absolutely,” Jess agrees and tries not to feel mournful about the loss of Jules.

“Besides,” Jules says. “Aren’t you getting sick of me? And it’s not like I won’t see you back in London. And, oh Christ, we’ve got training camp in like two months. You’ll be so sick of my face after that, you’ll probably want to room with Kim or someone.”

“Never,” Jess says loyally. Jules looks at Jess a little sideways and Jess backpedals her response. “She snores.”

Jules dissolves into giggles and purchases her ticket. Back to Chicago. And Jess tries not to feel like she’s losing something important here. There’s something caught in her throat—she wants to tell Jules that the best part of her year (outside of football) is when she gets to spend time like this with Jules. Just the two of them, just being.

But, she knows how that would sound. Jules might think that—well, either way, Jess doesn’t say anything.

 

 

After Jess drops Jules off at the airport a few days later, she takes the long way back to avoid traffic but ends up spending the whole car ride alone with her thoughts. Football, her family and Jules. Her family is back in London. Jules is soon-to-be in Chicago. And she’s just lost another go at the NWSL championship with the World Cup tournament a long ten months away. For not the first time, everything that she cares about seems so far away.

 

 

 

 

For a while, everything keeps being far away. But then, Jess books her flight back home, arriving to what feels like half of every blood relative that she has crowding the airport baggage claim to pick her up.

Her parents take her back home and Jess allows her dad to help carry her bags upstairs to her old room. She’s never managed to get her own place back in London—but her room feels so foreign now. There are books she can’t remember reading, clothing she’s not sure she’s ever worn. Her Beckham poster is long gone by now—her mum probably threw it away the first chance that she had.

She really should unpack, but Jess sits down carefully on her bed and then lies back. After a few minutes, there’s a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in, Dad,” Jess calls. Without opening her eyes, Jess hears her dad walk into the room, his weight causing the bed to dip as it sits in it next to her.

“Jessi,” he says. “How is my daughter?”

“Tired,” Jess says. “But happy. Very happy.”

Her dad makes a sound. “I am glad that you are home, Jessi. This will be good for you.”

Jess does open her eyes at that and sit up. “Yeah, it will. I may be jetlagged but I am starving.”

“That’s good!” her dad says. “Your mother has become convinced that you will need to eat as much as half a dozen people and she has prepared a feast.”

“Did she—”

“And Pinky and Teetu and the girls will be coming too,” Jess’s dad finishes.

“Definitely won’t be enough food now,” Jess says and her dad draws her in for a long hug.

“I missed you,” he says.

 

 

 

Even though training camp doesn’t start for at least another month, there’s no excuse for getting out of shape, so Jess links up with a trainer nearby in Osterley and makes sure to keep up with her morning workouts. Jules has an apartment in central London, so Jess feels weird about asking Jules if she wants to work out.

Jess tries to reason with herself about it—Jules is her best friend! All she has to do is text her. If Jules can’t make it, literally nothing bad will happen. And yet, one day goes by. Then two. Then a full week.

It’s almost been two weeks when Jess gets a call from Jules. “Bhamra, where have you been hiding?” Jules says. “I would be insulted if I didn’t know how crazy your family is about all its family obligations when you get back. But if I leave you to them for too long, you’re going to get fat and then they’ll kick you off the team. And then there’d be no one as good-looking in second place when I get the most goals in the World Cup.”

Jess tries not to let the intense waves of shame colour her voice. “Sorry, sorry! You know how crazy my mum gets.”

“Do I,” Jules agrees. “But tell her that this is important. Tell her that your performance in the World Cup will help you find a husband.”

“Do not tell her that!” Jess says, laughing. “She’s finally decreased the amount of times she asks me about men to once a season. She’s switched to longing glances and lots of sighs, which I definitely prefer.”

“Alright,” Jules agrees. “But only on the condition that I finally get you to work out with. It’s been ages since we last really worked out. I’ll come meet you in Hounslow tomorrow morning at your place.”

“Are you sure?” Jess says. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re my best girl, you could never put me out,” Jules says in her best flirty voice. Jess’s face warms up.

“Yeah, yeah, save that for the women who still fall for that,” Jess says.

Jules sighs. “You’re breaking my heart, Bhamra. Fine, I’ll just have to console myself with an extra gruelling session tomorrow morning.”

 

 

Next morning, Jules shows up bright and early and drags Jess out on a run, interlaced with their favourite core exercises in the park. It’s too early for many people to be out, but they spot a group of kids playing footie, bags abandoned to the side, before they have to head to school.

Jess looks over at Jules and smiles, Jules nods back.

They end up playing with a mix of seven-to-ten-year-olds who are ecstatic to have more people to play with, even if those people are double their size. Jess and Jules split up and Jess plays back on D and coaches her group of five. Near the end, when the kids are all grabbing their bags, one of the girls shyly comes up to Jess.

“Are you on the national team then?” she asks. “I think I’ve seen you play.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jess says and feels a groundswell of pride.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” the girl says. “I want to be like you and play on the national team as well.”

“Keep practicing,” Jess says. “You play well.”

“Really, you think so?” the girl asks. Jess nods and then the girl smiles brightly at Jess before one of the other kids calls for her and she sprints off.

“Cute, huh,” Jules says.

“Yeah, pretty cute,” Jess says. “I still can’t believe that anyone recognizes me. I just never thought I’d be here. Here.”

“I know,” Jules says.

“Come on,” Jess says. “I’m starving.”

 

When they get home, Jess’s mum has prepared breakfast. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Jess’s mum has come to think that Jules can do no harm, so Jess’s mum flutters all around Jules making sure that she feels comfortable and doesn’t want anything else.

“No, really, Mrs. Bhamra, everything is so delicious,” Jules says, her mouth half-full with food.

“You really should come over more—you are too skinny,” Jess’s mum says seriously.

“If this is my reward for coming over, then I promise I will be over all the time,” Jules says just as seriously. Jess’s mum coos.

Jess tries not to roll her eyes.

 

 

Jess and Jules spend the second half of September and most of October bumming around London. There are friends to see, things that they need to catch up on. Jess takes a weekend trip in October out to France to visit some friends and Jules does a trip to Dublin to see some of her friends.

And then suddenly, far sooner that it should have been, it’s time for training camp.

Jess and Jules fly up to Birmingham where they’re met by one of the FA assistants who picks them up from the airport and takes them to the flats near St. George’s Park where they always put the women’s team up at.

Miles, a coaching assistant for the team, meets them there with packets of information and keys to their rooms. Jess and Jules snag the same flat (Miles rolls his eyes but acquiesces) and then head up to their rooms with the strict instruction from Miles to meet in one of the conference rooms at St. George’s for dinner and information at 5 p.m.

 

 

The rest of the girls drift in throughout the day—it hasn’t been that long since their last match, but it’s great to see everyone. There are a lot of hugs and gossiping—it’s only been a few months since their last match, but everything has a slightly charged edge to it as the shadow of the World Cup hangs in the distance.

Coach Sampson starts training camp off with a straight jump into it. This isn’t Jess’s first go at training camp, although her position is never secure, but Jess feels confident enough to ease back into the normalcy of national team training.

Most days, there’s alternating practice in the morning or afternoon, combined with the weight room, physio, video review. For the first week of so, there’s a sense of hesitation about everything—everyone doing their best to not step too hard on each other’s toes.

Even though Jess has done some version of this for the last eight years, every year she feels the same sense of trepidation—she’s got something to prove. It’s not just enough that she’s done this before because that’s never enough. She needs to show that she belongs here, with one of the most elite squads in the world. And everyone else on the team feels exactly the same way. They wouldn’t have made it this far if they didn’t.

“Ugh, I am dying,” Jules says in the middle of the second week. Or their second hell week as Jules has affectionately or not so affectionately referred to it. “Do you think that if I throw up on the field, Sampson will finally stop looking at me like I’ve killed his cat.”

“Maybe you should have delivered on that last cross pass,” Jess says.

“Not you too!” Jules says. She mimes a shot into her heart and then falls over dead. Siobhan’s passing by and she laughs.

“Yeah, get her good, she almost ran me over out there,” she says and Jules pouts even further.

 

The team feels optimistic heading into their first match. Germany is expected to be one of the top teams, but Jess has high expectations for her team’s game. A win would be an unexpected gift, but a draw feels distinctly possible.

And then…the game happens. It feels like one of the worst performances that she’s personally had in years, although Jess can objectively admit that she did not single-handedly lose the game for England.

But still, right off the bat, German scores at the fifteen-minute mark. Jess gets caught flat footed and one of their defenders makes a crisp pass past Jess straight up the field. It’s the work of twenty seconds from that pass to the first goal and Jess closes her eyes even as she sees it happen.

It only gets worse from there as well, as if the first goal was permission for the rest of the English team to break down completely.

Jules looks just as frustrated as Jess feels and when the refs blow the final whistle, it’s almost with a sense of relief that the blood-letting has finished.

Everyone is downcast as they make their way to the lockers, Houghton scowling, Siobhan completely silent and Jules refusing to meet Jess’s eyes. Sampson doesn’t hesitate to rip into them once they’re all seated. Each of the sits there in their sweaty gear and takes it. When Sampson eventually finishes, his anger is still palpable even after he’s left and everyone tiptoes around the room as if that could somehow erase the last three hours of their lives.

On the flight back from Germany, Jess sits down next to Jules and neither one of them says much of anything. Jess can’t stop replaying the game. There had been at least two opportunities to score that Jess had completely mixed up. There was one corner kick that Jules had set up perfectly right in the ad time at the end of the second half. If only Jess had been a little faster—just managed to get her foot on the ball. They could have at least gotten on the scoreboard instead of that massive goose egg of failure.

“Hey,” Jules said, somewhere over the Atlantic. “We’ll do better next time.” She squeezes Jess’s shoulder. It doesn’t make the loss feel any better, but Jess lets herself get lost in her music and the warmth of Jules pressed up against her right.

.

 

 

The team takes it as inspiration, Steph especially. It doesn’t hurt that they have another two months before their next friendly that they use to shake off the dust. Sampson decides that anything is fair game and he starts with their on-field formation, switching to the 4-4-2 formation. The change is good for the team as plays seem to come more naturally—although the actual test of that remains to be seen.

Eventually the days fall into a pattern—Jules wakes up Jess and they make an easy breakfast. Jules likes to tease Jess about her breakfast making skills because the extent of Jess’s willingness to cook in the morning is limited to overnight oats or buttered toast. She’s generally a cereal or oatmeal person, with fruit added in for taste. Jules finds this horrifying and most mornings cooks for them—nothing too fancy, but it’s hard to turn down her healthy take on a fry up.

Their days are spent training, except for their rare days off. They always end up in Birmingham on those days. Some days the team catches a movie together, some days a few of them go out shopping or catch a meal.

Training leaves her exhausted though, and most nights, she and Jules curl up on the couch and put on something mindless like TOWIE or X-Factor where Jules makes fun of the participants and Jess can just relax and laugh at Jules, whatever crap tv show they’re watching or both of them.

It’s nice.

 

 

Their next friendly is against the USA—it’s down in Milton Keynes and even though it’s a friendly, the whole team has jitters the night before. The USA is also one of the top squads and no one needs to say that the USA is one of the more likely contenders for the championships.

The game itself feels like a World Cup game—there’s fifteen thousand fans filling the stadium and they’re all clamouring for England. It’s gratifying and the fans’ support gives Jess a sort of envigorated confidence.

She’s smiling when they go out onto the field for warm-ups and Jules elbows her when she catches Jess looking at the crowd.

“Are you thinking that they’re all here for you?” Jules asks.

“They’re certainly not here for your ugly face,” Kim calls on the other side of Jules where she’s stretching out. Jess can’t help but snicker.

“I’m not ugly, right?” Jules asks although they both know that Jules could care less about her looks.

“Your mum thinks that you’re lovely,” Jess says. “She’s told me numerous times.”

Jules looks utterly wounded. “I’ve been betrayed by my best friend. My mum does think that I’m lovely and I suppose I shall have to content myself with that.”

It’s no secret that Jules is one of the more popular members of the team in no small part because she’s the opposite of ugly. As if to rub it in, Jules leans back, stretching out her back, and her kit rides up exposing the pale expanse of her very toned stomach.

Jess can’t breathe for a second and before she can stop herself, she wonders what it would be like to run her hand up Jules’s side, gently trail her nails over Jules’s skin, watch Jules shiver. And then, Jess’s face is heating up and she turns her head quickly and focuses on retying her laces.

See—here’s the thing. There’s playing football and then there’s Jules. It’s a miracle that she’s gotten away with one of them. She knows the rules of the game here. She’s the only Indian-British woman on the team. If she—if she did—it just can’t happen. Football comes first. It always has. And if she—if she did anything to jeopardize it, football would be gone in a flash. And if she can’t have both, she’s more than willing to settle for one.

“You alright?” Jules says. Her kit is now perfectly in place. As if nothing had ever been revealed.

“Visualizing the game,” Jess says.

“We’ve got this one,” Jules promises.

 

 

The first twenty minutes are anyone’s game—neither team can maintain possession and they’re running back and forth when out of nowhere one of the USA midfielders makes the perfect cross to Alex Morgan who hammers the ball home.

Jess refuses to let it weigh her down—the team feels strong and in the second half, Jess makes a pass over to Jules, who immediately shoots on net, their keeper knocking it up and against the crossbar. Taylor is there for the rebound and it gloriously, beautifully, goes in, tying it up.

Except—it doesn’t. The refs rule it offsides even though Jess knows that Jules hadn’t been offside. She knows and she’s about to start screaming it at the refs when Jules forcibly drags her away and forces Jess to look at her.

“Let it go,” Jules said. “We can’t do anything about this one. We need to get another and we can’t do it if you get a red card.”

Jules is right, but it burns, and Jess feels it eating her up for the rest of the half. It must be clear as day because Sampson subs her out with fifteen minutes left. “Get your head on straight, Bhamra,” Sampson says when Jess angrily makes her way to the bench.

 They don’t win, but Sampson isn’t displeased with the team. He’s displeased with the refs, but he reigns in his anger.

“That was miles and away a better team than we saw in November,” Sampson says. “That game was a draw in all but name and you ladies should be proud of your performance today. I know that some of you are angry about the offsides call, but we need to focus on winning. We can’t control the refs. We can control our play.”

Steph comes by and claps a hand on Jess’s shoulder after she gets out of the shower. “Good game, Bhamra,” she says.

Steph isn’t one of those players who says something positive just to be positive. She says it when she means it. It doesn’t erase Jess’s anger, but it does temper it somewhat, especially when Jules waggles her eyebrows at Jess when she gets done showering.

“How come you’re not angry?” Jess asks.

“Because we scored—I know it, you know it. Everyone out there knows it. And we’re going to do it again, in the matches that actually count,” Jules says as if it’s just as simple as that.

 

 

The fixture against the USA is the start of the real season. After the USA, there’s the Cyprus Cup, which feels like a test drive of the World Cup. England is placed in Group C, alongside Finland, Holland and Australia.

The team flies down to Cyprus a week before the tournament and Sampson drills them ruthlessly. They should match up well against their group, but Jess has learned the hard way to never take any game for granted.

However, for their first match against Finland, the team just clicks—taking the base that they’d developed during the USA game and building on it so that the team feels fluid, connected. England dominates from start to finish and both Jules and Jess get on the board during the second half. The team cruises to an easy 3-1 victory.

Next up is Australia and even though Jess doesn’t get any goals, she plays well, and she can tell that Sampson is happy with her.

Holland is a tougher game and although Jess knew that it would be going in, it still feels rough. Holland scores first, a beauty of a goal that goes just over the tips of Siobhan’s fingers and sinks into the corner. The team refuses to give up though and just before the end of the second, Jules passes it up to Jess off of a slick steal, Jess crosses to Eniola and Eniola nails it in.

She crushes Jess into a hug and Jules piles in as well. It feels so good—these are the moments that Jess lives for. The feeling of pure happiness on your team scoring, of being an integral part of making that happen, of triumphing when you didn’t know if it would be possible.

When Jules pulls Jess into a separate hug after the first half is whistled, Jess reminds herself of her sacred rule. She has football. She is aiming towards glory. Glory demands sacrifices that Jess must be willing to pay.

Throughout the second half, everyone on the team is focused on getting another goal—if they win and Mexico loses or draws, then they’re going to be an automatic pass to the finals. If they win and Mexico wins or if they both draw, it will come down to goal differentials. If they draw or lose and Mexico wins…Mexico will be going to the championships.

Every so often, the scoreboard flashes an update from the Mexico-Belgium game. At the end of the first half, Mexico and Belgium are also tied, zero-zero.

For the second half, Jess only sees the updates sporadically, when she happens to be looking up and catches it out of the corner of her eye, but she can’t think about it, can’t focus on it. She needs to concentrate on her game here.

The team successfully contains Holland during the second half, but no one is able to get out any good shots on net. There are a few solid drives, Lianne getting amazingly close, but nothing else gets past Holland’s keeper.

Near the eighty-minute mark, Jess happens to look and sees that, unbelievably, the Mexico-Belgium score is still tied at zero. If they just keep it at a zero-zero draw for the next ten minutes, England will be in. Ten minutes, that’s all, so Jess puts her head down and pushes hard, not letting up for one moment until the final whistle blows.

Every single woman on the English team looks up immediately at the screen. On the split screen, right-hand side, there’s the Belgium-Mexico game, the clock stuck at ninety minutes with four minutes of add time. There’s been two minutes, the timer ticking down, and everyone holds their breath for the next minute and a half, before the ref whistles and then the entire team is piling onto each other.

 

Two days later, they’re back in the stadium in freshly pressed uniforms for the championship game. It’s a crisp day and there’s a sense of expectation in the air. Everyone lines up for the pre-game festivities and then, quicker then it seems possible, they’re off.

Canada is good—very good—but England works to keep them contained. Jess gets  so close near the end of the first half, when she gets a great shot on goal which Canada’s keeper flips up over the bar, much to the vocal annoyance of the crowd.

There’s an almost decent attempt from Canada that pushes Jess’s heart into her throat, but Siobhan easily secures it and then punts it back into the game. Finally, England breaks through a little over twenty minutes into the second half.

It comes when Karen gets the ball to Jess, who simply does a flick-on up to Jules who finishes it with a ball in the net, right high corner. Everyone is hugging everyone, Sampson screaming in the background to not lose focus, and then Jess has got a new mantra, “Get another one, get another one.”

Jess gets oh so close in the closing minutes of the game, but it doesn’t even matter because Canada has looked outrun for the entire game, their players desperate for that goal and unable to maintain solid possession.

When the final whistle sounds, there’s so much screaming that Jess feels her ear drums may be permanently damaged. But it doesn’t matter—they’ve won the Cyprus Cup. It may not be the World Cup, but it’s nothing to scoff at and Jess feels proud. They made it from their horrible start against Germany to here—winning a championship.

Jules pulls Jess into a hug and Jess hugs her tight back. “You’re brilliant,” Jules says. “You won us that game. Without that pass, we’d been sitting here zero all.”

“No, Jules, that goal was amazing. You would have found a way,” Jess says.

“Together, we’re the dream team! We’re unstoppable,” Jess says and then pulls her into a hug that goes on so long, it’s broken up by their teammates who want to get in on it as well.

 

 

They don’t head back to England until the next day, so the girls all go out that night to the Laiki Yitonia neighbourhood, which is an easy walk from their hotel. Jordan is the most extroverted of the group and she’s already figured out how to get them hooked up with a table for free in one of the larger clubs.

Everyone’s buying rounds and Jess downs three shots before she’s even aware of it. Half of the group troops out onto the dance floor, Katie leading the charge and shaking her arse like she spends every night in the clubs instead of curled up on her coach at home, like Jess knows that she does.

But it’s so much fun—the music, the lights and the constant stream of alcohol. And even though probably no one in the club knows who this group of women is, their sense of triumph must be apparent, because people are clamouring to buy them drinks and dance with them.

One guy tries to get in close to Jess—he’s cute, there’s no denying that, with some scruff and a nice smile. He’s properly fit as well and Jess wagers that if she pressed in close to him, she’d feel more than just the start of a six-pack. But she doesn’t want to go with him, she wants to stay with her friends, so she presses in close to Jules, who takes the hint and pulls Jess up close.

For a long moment, there’s no one else around them, just Jess and Jules and the thumping bass of the club. Jess can’t stop looking at Jules, can’t stop staring at her lips. Everything that she’s told herself about Jules being off limits has gone completely out the window.

One moment turns into two. Then three and four. Jess needs to look away, needs to step back. But Jules has her hand on the small of Jess’s back, keeping her in place. Jess could break free, but she doesn’t want to. She could stay there forever—until someone jostles Jess from behind and Jess stumbles, breaking the spell between them.

Jess takes the coward’s way out and asks if anyone wants a drink before bolting back to the bar. No one follows her (was she expecting someone to follow her?) and Jess allows herself a few minutes in the anonymous darkness.

Eventually the bartender gets to Jess and looks at her expectantly. “Vodka tonic,” she eventually supplies. While the bartender makes Jess her drink, she feels someone sweaty drape herself across her back.

“Make that two!” Jules says cheerily. There’s a fluttering in Jess’s chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

Seized with sudden bravery, Jess turns to face Jules. “Why aren’t you hitting on any of the girls here in the club?”

Jules freezes up. “I—” she starts and there’s a long pause before Jules finishes. “I didn’t feel up to it tonight,” she finishes and looks away.

A heavy weight sinks in Jess’s stomach. But Jules’s answer is good, Jess tells herself, it’s really good. Jess had almost forgotten herself. But Jules had saved her—saved Jess from doing something really stupid and foolish. That Jess would have regretted forever.

“Come on, let’s go back to the dance floor,” Jess says and she brandishes the drinks that the bartender has left for them.

“Absolutely,” Jules says and Jess makes sure to smile really big even though her chest feels hollowed out and painful.

 

 

They eventually go to another club, one that’s more downbeat but still happening and there’s a cute woman that Jess starts chatting with. Taken with a fit of self-masochism, Jess turns and brings Jules into the conversation.

The woman does a decent job of providing conversation, so as soon as Jules starts explaining what training is like for the national team, Jess slips out of the circle and whispers goodbye to a few of the girls. It’s almost three a.m. anyways, and a handful of Jess’s teammates have already left, so no one looks twice at her.

It’s a quick cab ride back to the hotel. Jess keeps her mind purposefully blank on the ride and all the way up to her room. Once she’s in her room, she decides that the best use of her time is to pack—get it all done now rather than in the morning. She’s a little unsteady as she moves about the room, but her hands and feet mostly obey her as she folds up her clothes and tries to find her favourite sweater.

Jess must have fallen asleep, because she wakes up in one of the hotel room’s chairs, face mashed into the side, by loud knocking at her door. Jess blearily stumbles to her feet and opens up her door to see Jules standing there, a hurt look on her face.

“You left without me,” Jules says.

“Well, you were talking to that woman,” Jess says. “And I—er—what time is it?”

Jules pulls out her phone. “Four a.m.”

Jess nods, as if the time makes the situation any more logical.

“I told you that I didn’t want to talk to anyone else tonight,” Jules says, a little petulantly. Jess doesn’t her remember saying that as such, but nods and opens the door. Jules comes in and heads for the bed, pulling off her shoes before lying down.

After a minute, Jess joins her and they both lay on their sides facing each other. Jess is exhausted—so tired. She’s happy about the win but there’s also something heavy in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jules says.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” Jess says.

For a long time, Jules doesn’t say anything else and Jess’s eyes close of their own volition. She’s just starting to drift off when Jules speaks again. “Do you think that we’re going to win the World Cup?” Jules asks.

“I believe that we can do anything,” Jess says.

“We’re the dream team,” Jules says and Jess lets Jules interlace their hands.

When Jess wakes up in the morning, Jules is gone. It feels almost like a dream, but Jess can’t stop thinking about how it had felt to hold Jules’s hand. Like a puzzle piece slotting into its designated space. It lingers. The memory of Jules lingers. And when Jess gets onto the coach for the airport, she deliberately sits in the row behind Jules, instead of next to her.

When Jules looks back at her, concern on her face. Jess puts a rueful smile on her face. “Got the worst bloody headache,” she says. “Just want to stretch out and pretend that someone will put me out of my misery soon.”

Jules seems to accept that at face value, but she’s subdued on the plane, when Jess snags a seat up front near the trainers and engages them in conversation about her knee until the flight takes off.

 

 

 

There are two friendlies, one against China, one against Canada, before the World Cup. The team splits the pair, winning against China, losing against Canada. And then, suddenly they’re boarding their flight for New Brunswick—a place that sounds like it should be English by proxy.

The flight to New Brunswick is subdued. During the last World Cup, it had been Jess’s first time, and she had been so overwhelmed by the prospect of competing in the _World Cup_ that she’d missed all of the smaller details. She’d sat there on the bench and hyperventilated while looking into the stands to find her parents.

Even her mom had been jubilant to see Jess play when she’d been subbed into two games during the group stage. Jess had felt like they had to go far, after such a stellar performance in their group. And then, they’d lost out of the gate, the team losing in the first round of the knockout stage to France of all teams, in penalty kicks.

This time will be different, Jess vows to herself. She turns to Jules and then remembers that she’d taken a seat up front, in a row by herself.

It’s not to say that things are awkward between Jess and Jules right now—they’re not. They’re still the dream team, Jess and Jules taking on the world. But, after Cyprus, Jess had felt like it was wise to put some distance between them. If only temporarily.

 

 

The first game of the group stage is against France—and the entire team feels the sting of last World Cup’s painful knockout by the French squad.

England starts strong, dominating possession for the first twenty-five minutes. Jess gets a good chance on goal, but she just can’t get it past France’s goalkeeper. Jules, on the other hand, seems uncharacteristically anxious on the field and Jess begins to feel the frustration of Jules not pulling her weight.

Right around thirty minutes into the game, Jules turns the ball over and there’s a quick pass up the side lines and then number 9 on the other team pots it in perfectly.

Sampson is beyond irate and Jules is replaced on the field by Fara, who drops back leaving Jess as the only striker. Fara is good and Sampson makes a few other changeups, but the momentum is lost, even when the team comes back for the second half.

But when the final whistle blows and they all go back to the locker room, Sampson has calmed down. “We could have played better and we will play better, but we always knew that France was going to be a hard team to beat in our group stage. We just need to look forward and focus on Columbia and Mexico.”

 

 

“Hey, Jules,” Jess says after everyone has started cleaning up and getting dressed.

Jules looks up from her stall. She looks exhausted and cowed. Jess hates seeing that on her. Jules should look defiant and ready to conquer the world. Jess sits down next to Jules. Jules lets out a heavy sigh and then puts her head on Jess’s shoulder.

“Hey, just remember that we’re the dream team,” Jess says.

“Yeah,” Jules says.

“We need you to win,” Jess says. “I need you to win.”

“Well, if you need me to win, I’ve clearly got to deliver,” Jules says. It’s weak, but there’s that normal spark of Jules.

“I do, I need you,” Jess says.

 

 

 

Their next game is against Mexico and Sampson puts Jules back in, running a 4-3-3 formation with Jess, Jules and Frank up top.

England controls the game, but unlike their game against France, they stay on it throughout the first, getting several quality chances that just don’t go their way. Finally, in the second, Fran breaks through at the seventh minute mark, getting them onto the board. And then, just a few minutes later, Jess scores as well, getting a solid insurance goal so that when Mexico finally scores in add time, it’s not enough. When the game ends, everyone can’t stop smiling—their first official win of the 2015 World Cup.

And just a few days later, they fly to Montreal and win again against Columbia, who themselves had gotten a surprising victory over England. With the two wins, they’ve got the clear pass to the knockout stage and the team is both giddy and petrified.

 

The group stage is important—they can’t get to the knockout stage without winning most of their group stage games, but there’s a sense of security about the group stage. It turned out to be fine to lose against France because there’d been the security of two other games to even out their points total.

But in the knockout round, there’s no such forgiveness. It’s do or die.

 

They fly to Vancouver for their quarterfinals game against Norway. The night before their game, Jess gets a knock at her door at 9:30 p.m. It’s Jules, dressed for sleeping, but she has a look of sheer determination on her face that Jess has to school her face not to laugh at.

“Can I come in?” Jules says, suddenly formal. Jess can’t help but let out a chuckle at that.

“You’ve never needed an invitation before,” Jess says. Jules glares at Jess. “But yes, of course.”

Jules comes in and Jess follows her. Jules carefully sits down on Jess’s couch.

“I want to apologize,” she says. When Jess goes to open her mouth, Jules holds up a hand. “Please let me finish.” Jess nods and then lowers herself onto her bed.

“Do you remember when we were at that club in Cyprus?” Jules asks. Jess hasn’t been able to really forget it.

“Yeah,” she says.

“I—you looked at me that night. And sometimes you look at me in a way that makes me think that you might…Jess, I’ve been love with you since maybe the first moment that I saw you play football in the park. And when looked at me that way, I thought that you might feel the same way. But when you asked me why I wasn’t looking for anyone else that night and you looked at me that way, I got so scared of what I might lose. As a friend. As a teammate. The best teammate. And so, I couldn’t say it. The words were there, but they couldn’t come out.”

Jules stops and Jess can’t even breathe. The room has lost all of its oxygen, but it doesn’t even matter, because Jules is saying what Jess has been hoping for. Praying for. And also hoping and praying would never happen.

“But, I can’t not say it,” Jules says. “I need to go into this series with a clean slate, feeling like I’m my best self and I haven’t been feeling like my best self. I’ve been holding something back from myself and from you. So, even if you don’t feel the same, I just need you to know.”

Jess can’t say anything for a few seconds, her thoughts coming and going before she’s finally able to catch the tail of one.

“I do—that is I do feel the same,” Jess says. “I’m not sure when I started liking you, but—there’s my parents. And everyone else. All the time, I was thinking, I don’t really like her that way. I just really like her as a friend. But then I would get jealous of the people you dated, which I told myself was because they monopolized your attention and took away from our friendship. But that wasn’t it at all.”

Jess takes a deep breath and thinks for a minute. “I’ve been so scared of what if I did like you in a way that was more than friends. But then at some point this year, you became greater than the fear. We are the dream team.”

“The dream team,” Jules said and she’s over next to Jess, sitting close looking at Jess and there’s something amazing blossoming in her eyes.

“I’m scared,” Jess says. “But I love you and want to try.”

“Me too,” Jules says and then she leans in to kiss Jess.

 

 

They don’t get much farther than that—both of them agreeing to table their feelings until after the World Cup. But, even with that pause, Jess feels giddy when she wakes up the next morning, excitement coursing through her veins.

She can’t stop smiling and she’s not sure if it’s about getting to play in the World Cup or if it’s about Jules. Or maybe both. But she can’t hide it and Karen raises her eyebrows in question when she shows up early to team breakfast.

“Good news?” Karen asks.

“We’re going to nail this,” Jess says.

“Bloody right we are,” Karen says.

 

 

For their game, Sampson has gone with a 4-2-3-1. Jules is up front and Jess is left wing, with Kim and Katie on her line. Right before the game starts, Jules looks back at Jess and Jess’s face goes so warm, it’s a surprise that everyone in the stadium can’t see the flames radiating off of her.

Both sides start out a little tentatively, feeling each other out. It’s been some time since England and Norway played against each other and it shows as the teams get their footing. The first half is a stifling, frustrating mess, with neither side getting any inroads or decent chances.

Sampson doesn’t say much to them during the break—but he stresses that if the strikers can’t break free, then the defenders need to be able to step up. And when they return for the second half, it’s as if his words are magic.

Although Norway scores first, England ties it up seven minutes later, with Steph scoring from almost twenty yards out. It’s like a magic switch, because the team goes electric, pushing forward and forward until England scores again, from another defender, Lucy. Suddenly, everyone’s holding their breath, praying that this is the go-ahead goal that moves them into the quarter-finals.

As the ref call the game over, all the Brits in the audience, screaming so loudly it almost hurts, Jess meets Jules’s eyes and they both can’t stop smiling. They’re already making it past their performance in 2011.

 

In what feels like a blur, five days later, they defeat Canada to move to the semi-finals. Jess can’t stop thinking back to Jules’s words after the Cyprus Cup. Will this actually be their year?

 

For the semi-finals, they’re matched with Japan, the reigning World Cup champions. Japan scores first, thirty-two minutes into the first half, but Fara evens it up. Second half—there’s nothing. The teams are evenly matched and although Jess keeps pushing up, they’re not able to get any significant chances. The only consolation is that Japan is just as stymied as England.

The game has the inevitable feel of overtime when it goes into stoppage with the game still tied. And then, horribly, with two minutes into stoppage, Laura tries to cross the ball to clear it from the corner, but pops it back up and over Karen’s head, hitting the goal cross-bar and falling in.

The game ends almost immediately, and Jess ran to Laura, even as her own heart broke for their World Cup dreams.

 

 

There wasn’t much to say in the locker room—Laura understandably still a mess. They had have a third place game in a few days, but it seems so far off. While Jess knows that she will care—that bronze is still better than their last performance, it’s hard to give up the dream of gold. Of the feeling of standing up there, knowing that they’re the world champions.

No one feels much like going out and Jess retreats to her hotel room. She’s not surprised when there’s a knock on Jess’s door and Jules is there with a whole platter of sandwiches.

“Hungry?” Jules asks once she come in.

“Not really,” Jess says.

“Me too,” Jess says. “I just figured it was better to show up with food.”

“I’m glad you came over,” Jess says.

They end up putting on some crap tv channel and watching reality television until they both fall asleep.

 

 

“You can either take the loss and move on to fight for third place. Or you can give up now and give up the chance to medal,” Sampson says the next morning when the team meets for practice.

“I want a medal,” Jules says loudly. There’s a chorus of agreement that Jess joins in. It’s hard to come back from an own-goal loss in the World Cup. It would be all too easy to just listen to the voices in Jess’s head that imagine how the future could have been if they’d just held on until extra time. Or if Jess had converted on a chance earlier. Or if anyone else had managed to get the ball out sooner so that Laura wasn’t cornered.

But there’s no use thinking about it because it won’t happen. There’s no way to unwind that game. Instead, Jess looks forward. Their opponent is already set—Germany, having lost in the semi-finals against USA.

 

 

Sampson doesn’t bring up their earlier loss to Germany—their game that set the pace for the entire season. That the squad had something to prove. And they do, now and here especially.

 

“We’re running a 3-5-2,” Sampson tells them and they drill that way for the next two days, interspersed with video review of the German team. It doesn’t feel like an exaggeration to say that the German team looks like toughest team out there. In their game against the USA, one of the German players had played for a large portion of the game with her hair dyed red with blood from a header.

“But we’re going to be better. We are better,” Jules says when they grab dinner the night before the match. She’s pressed up against Jess, nothing that she hadn’t done a million times before, but it feels different now and Jess wants to kiss her or hold her hand or do anything other than calmly sit there while she eats. They haven’t discussed much of anything about what they are, the pause is still in effect, and what seemed like a great idea several days ago now seems like the worst possible idea.

“England has never medaled before,” Jess says. “We’re going to be the ones to do it.” There’s a long pause while Jess takes another few bites of her chicken pasta. “Do you think that anything will change if we win?”

“We’ve made so much change already,” Jules says. She scoots in even closer and Jess turns to her, like a flower to the sun, as she has since she was seventeen years old. “We’ll make them change even more.”

 

 

The next day, the team arrives at the stadium bright and early. “This is it—this is your last game,” Sampson says as he final words before he dismisses them to get ready.

And even though it feels like the most impossible game in the world, when Jess scores eighteen minutes into extra time, Jess knows that she is capable of the impossible. When Jules sprints over to crush Jess, Jess stops and kisses her. She kisses her before her team, her country and the world.


End file.
